


Crumbling

by AdventTraitor



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: M/M, Masja
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 12:41:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3692694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdventTraitor/pseuds/AdventTraitor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ja'far sneaks away to Masrur's room for the night, but gets a lot more than he bargained for before the night is finished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crumbling

Ja’far slipped into Masrur’s rooms silently…well, silently to anybody else.  There was no doubt that Masrur had heard his entrance.  He let out a relieved sigh, turning into the complete darkness of the room and standing there for a moment, letting his eyes adjust.  Ja’far had narrowly missed his king in the hallway—and the other had likely been on his way to find Ja’far himself.  Not that he didn’t enjoy a night with Sinbad ever so often…but sometimes, he just needed something else.  To avoid the awkward refusal he would have to give, as well as a reason as to why he was out wandering the halls so late while in night clothing, he had hidden in the shadows until the coast was clear.

 

Something about the secrecy of it made Ja’far’s stomach churn with guilt, but Sinbad had others to keep his bed warm; it wasn’t as though their relationship was any kind of monogamous, considering his king’s bed habits.

 

“It’s late.”

 

Ja’far was pulled out of his twisting thoughts at the deep voice, which belonged to Masrur.  Ja’far squinted through the darkness, his eyes having adjusted enough to see the bulk of an outline of the other man, who was currently laying on the pile of pillows he called his bed.

 

“Yes…my apologies for arriving unannounced.  I can…leave, if you don’t want…” Ja’far trailed off, watching Masrur stand and move over to stand just in front of him.

 

“I didn’t say that,” was all he replied, one large hand resting on the wall just above one of the other’s shoulders.

 

Ja’far bit down on the inside of his lip, reaching his arms up and around Masrur’s neck, having to stand on his tiptoes even when the other was already bent over.

 

“Good…I didn’t really want to, anyway.”

 

Suddenly, Ja’far was hoisted up, his back against the wall while his legs clung to Masrur’s waist, their mouths meeting more gently than Ja’far would have ever imagined before he started sleeping with the Fanalis.  Masrur had explained to him before that his strength was difficult to control, especially in regards to handling people he didn’t want to permanently maim in situations such as this.

 

Still, the gentleness nearly always frustrated him.  Ja’far liked being handled roughly, but didn’t want to make it more difficult on Masrur than it apparently already was, and so he usually stayed silent.

 

The moan that left him when he felt fingers pressing inside was nothing short of sinful, with a louder shriek when they were replaced with the head of Masrur’s cock, larger than anybody else he’d ever taken before.  The thought made Ja’far bite his lip, a soft whine still audible as the length pressed in further, stretching him until he was certain he’d break.

 

Masrur let out a grunt as he started a slow, easy rhythm, careful not to leave bruises with his hands, even more careful not to thrust hard enough to break any bones, all while doing his best to keep the buzz of pleasure at bay to keep the right amount of concentration he needed to keep Ja’far safe during their coupling.

 

Sometimes, he wondered what it would be like to be able to let go and give his partner everything he had, no longer having to restrain himself and letting all thought leave him…  Alas, Morgiana was the only other Fanalis he’d met thus far, and there was no possibility that he could think of her in such a way.  Regardless, Ja’far still felt amazing around him, especially with his high-pitched squeaks and moans that told him just how much the other was enjoying this.

 

“Ahh—fuck me harder—“ Ja’far moaned, his head lolling back against the wall, his eyes shut tight as his hips rolled into Masrur’s thrusts.  “Make it—ah, haaa—so I can’t—ah, move, at all, tomorrow—“ he gasped between thrusts, his voice cracking near the end.  Ja’far almost exclusively saved any vulgarity for the nights he spent in Sinbad’s bed, but he was so far gone he couldn’t control what he said any longer.

 

Masrur’s eyes widened, the words going straight to his arousal as he thrust up harder than he should, pulling a scream out of Ja’far’s throat as a result.  His breathing was uneven, his thrusts losing their slow rhythm for something more ragged and harsh.  Ja’far’s cries weren’t completely in pleasure any longer, and the scrabbling of his nails at Masrur’s shoulders were more frantic than he’d ever felt before.

 

 _I’m going to kill him_ , Masrur thought as his mind began to haze over.  With his last shred of concentration, Masrur pulled Ja’far off of him and tossed him over to the pile of pillows he’d been laying on earlier.

 

Ja’far screeched, but landed without injury—whether or not his ass would be fine, he’d find out in the morning.  For the present moment, he looked over to Masrur when he heard a loud bang, and saw that part of the wall had been blown away—marble was crumbling and dust settling by the time Ja’far really understood what he was looking at.  He blinked, taking in Masrur’s silhouette from the torches in the hallway that he could now see, and noting absently that his arousal was gone due to the shock going through his system.

 

Masrur was staring at his fist, which was covered in dust, and was otherwise unmoving.

 

“Did…did you just…punch an entire section of the wall out?” Ja’far asked dumbly.

 

“…Yeah,” was the low response.

 

Ja’far thought there must be something wrong with himself, considering just how much that made him want the other more.  Riding that line of danger…it made his blood sing in a way he hadn’t felt since he was still a small child.

 

Before he could say anything else, several guards rushed up to the hold Masrur made, their weapons at the ready.  They began asking Masrur if he was alright, if there was an intruder, what exactly happened here—and Ja’far was still morbidly fascinated with how close he’d come to a rather spectacular death to realize that escaping quietly would be easier on both him and Masrur in the long run.

 

“Sir…Sir Ja’far?”

 

Ja’far’s attention snapped up, and suddenly he realized that there were guards in the room, surveying the damage and walking up to him while he was _still laying with his legs spread apart and wearing torn night robes._

 

“Ah—“ he gasped, closing his legs quickly and feeling a flush as hot as the fires of hell on his cheeks.  He looked up just in time to see Sinbad poke his head through the sizeable hole before he stepped through it, moving to walk toward Masrur before he spotted Ja’far.  He saw his king blink, before an odd smile he couldn’t quite read was on his face.

 

“Well…that explains a lot.”


End file.
